


Somebody Ought To

by Chameleon75



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-04
Updated: 2011-04-04
Packaged: 2017-10-17 14:29:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/177840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chameleon75/pseuds/Chameleon75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Days after returning home, Bobby’s thoughts keep returning to his experience in the cannery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somebody Ought To

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Supernatural fan fiction--only my second fiction ever. Italics are internal thoughts. Unbeta’ed all mistakes are my own. Reviews and critiques are welcome and appreciated.

Somebody Ought To

Author: Chameleon75

Rating: PG

Characters: Bobby Singer

Pairing: none

Word Count: 1462

Warnings: Curse words and the liberal use of the word Idjit(s)

Spoilers: Episode 6.16 “And Then There Were None”

Disclaimer: I own nothing so don’t sue me!  Just borrowing Eric’s boys and plan to return them mostly unharmed.

Summary: Days after returning home, Bobby’s thoughts keep returning to his experience in the cannery.

*SPN*

Returning to his desk with his liquid lunch, which consisted of a fresh bottle of whiskey and a glass, Bobby selected another dusty, rare crumbling book trying to find any information on this mother of all pains in the ass-Eve. A few minutes of reading and savoring the flavor of the whiskey, he found his attention wandering and the words were becoming a blur on the page. After having the boys here last week, it was almost too quiet in the house.

Sam and Dean left two days ago on a hunt where the victims were beaten to a pulp and left messy. This would not nromally spark the attention of any hunter, except there were five deaths close to a church in a small, quiet, middle of nowhere town. The footprints on the scene indicated that the killer had to be seven foot tall. How does everyone miss a seven foot anything? Dean was so antsy in the days following Rufus's burial; he jumped on the first case Sam mentioned, even thought it didn't seem to be anything more than another freaking tall pshcho killing folks to get his jollies off. Bobby noticed Sam searching for a new case that evening after Rufus was planted. It wasn't just Dean that was ready to hit the road.

Being possessed by that slimy piece of crap worm thing gave him a glimpse of what Sam is going through. The experience of having your body commit acts against your will and using you for its agenda was damned weird. While possessed by a demon, an experience that he has no desidre to go through again, you are aware of what the hell spawn are doing even if you can't do much about it. The worm totally took over to the point of blocking out the memory of the one possessed. After Dean and Sam revived him and got them checked into a motel, hearing that he stabbed Rufus was a very hard pill to swallow and not remembering his actions didn't make it any easier to deal with.

Each one of them killed that evening, three hunters dead by their hands.  Of the three, Sam seemed to be handling it better than Dean, but Sam just didn't know his grandfather well enough to form any kind of attachment.  Samuel Campbell seemed like a capable hunter but he treated those boys like shit. Turning on blood to stay in good with Crowley was beyond low in his book. Then the arrogant son of a bitch had the gall to call him out about his feelings for Dean and Sam. Those two idjits need someone to rely on and a place to call home besides the Impala. Just thinking about Campbell and his appalling actions towards those boys-his boys-was making his skin crawl.

His boys...right then and there Bobby knows what he has to do. Giving up researching for the time being, he picks up the phone and dials someone he has not thought about in years. After making an appointment, Bobby hangs up feeling better than he has since that night in the cannery.

*SPN*

The next morning he heads out early to run some errands before his 8:00 am appointment with Johnson. Last time he was in that office was before Karen's death. She decided that we needed to get our "affairs in order" just in case. She was always practical and organized like that. He felt an ache in his chest just returning to his lawyer's office but it was something that had to be done before his next 'follow the light' near death experience. He has twirled the dance floor with reapers many times-once was dead then revived by Castiel. But he has no illusions about being brought back again if another reaper should come for him. After so many close calls, he regrets not doing this long ago.

After sitting in a tiny, cheerful waiting room for nearly 20 minutes, Bobby is growing more and more impatient. Like he doesn't have nothing better to do than wait for some idjit to show up and take care of business; grumbling and throwing 'screw this' looks at the perky little assisstant seems to have finally paid off.  Right after his last eat-shit-death glare, she escorts him back to Johnson's office.

Holding out his hand, Johnson greets him "Mister Singer, I have to say it's been a long time. What brings you here today?"

"I want to change my will"

 _Do they teach that condesending attitude to all law students? Is it a class that is offered, such as Pompous Ass 101?_ Bobby's wandering thoughts caused him to miss part of what Johnson was blathering on about. "...there will be a small fee to file the paperwork, but changing your will should be no problem at all Mr. Singer". 

"Uh huh, well, let's get to it. I don't have all day" Bobby growls

"I see, let me pull up your file. Last time you went with a traditional will on paper. Currently there are DVD's video wills available as well as a combination of both. A disc for your loved ones as a way to leave a personal message and a paper will for finalizing the details.  Which one would you perfer Mr. Singer?"

"Just like before Johnson. Paper will to be read upon my death. I want everything to go to Dean and Sam Winchester."

Johnson continues his leering smile, "Done, Mr. Singer. Is there a personal message you would like to include in the reading of the will?"

"No. Just that those idjits gets it all after any outstanding debts are paid off" Bobby replies. He doens't have any debts but Karen thought it was a good idea and he was going to honor her choice by not changing the wording of the will. He had left everything to her anyway...He didn't imagine on that day many years ago that he would outlive her. Shaking off the memories, he stands up to leave and feels his cell vibrate in his pocket and ignores it for the moment. Sliding a piece of paper to the lawyer Bobby adds "This is their contact information. If the number changes I will update you on it. That number is to remain confidential and not used until my death...Do you understand me Mr. Johnson?" 

"Yes, of course Mr. Singer. That is standard operating procedure here. Your privacy is of the utmost importance..."

Bobby cuts off his upcoming speech "Well, I have had just about all the ass kissing I can tolerate for one day Mr. Johnson. Call me on my contact number at the top of that sheet when this is ready to sign."

Feeling like he needed a shower after his meeting with the lawyer, Bobby settles for breakfast instead and checks his phone. One missed call from Sam. While waiting for the waitress to refresh his coffee, he dials Sam and leaves a message on voicemail. Johnson's comments about leaving a personal message for the boys was not a bad idea but doing it himself and securing it in the panic room seemed like a much better plan than allowing something so personal to be recorded and placed into the slimy lawyer's care.

Just as the breakfast special is placed beside his steaming cup of joe his cell rings. "Good morning Sam.  Whatcha need?"

"Good morning Bobby, you seem like you're in a good mood. I wanted to run some things by you and maybe we could come up with some theories about what is killing these people" Sam talked over the typing of his laptop.  "I have been researching most of last night and I am coming up with dead ends...Hey, I am putting you on speakerphone..."

Looking down at his breakfast getting cold, Bobby listens to Sam and Dean with a faint smile. Those knuckleheads are worth the occasional missed meal.

*SPN*


End file.
